Snow
by Summerhorse
Summary: Black hair and sable eyes weren’t the only darkness allencompassing for the man as he prayed to whatever higher powers that be that he’d just freeze to death and fall in to one of the open graves that waited ominously. Angst, fluff, smut in a church


Alabaster snowflakes swirled lazily from the grey sky, taunting gravity with the way they hesitated; whirling upwards in midair in one last attempt at freedom before resigning to their fate and dropping wetly to the ground to join their counterparts that had already determined it was easier to comply with the laws of nature than to fight them. The man sagging on the cold stone bench at the back corner of an abandoned church's courtyard looked as though he'd just recently come to that same revelation. He seemed as though he'd fought the same last fight against the inevitableness of fate, having lost in the same manner, as the snow.

Black hair and sable eyes weren't the only darkness all-encompassing for the man as he prayed to whatever higher powers that be that he'd just freeze to death and fall in to one of the open graves that waited ominously. He exuded sorrow and loss in his every breath, and wondered briefly if it was him that caused the previously hopeful snowflakes to lose their willpower and succumb to their destinies. He sighed heavily and guiltily; moments passing before he realized that something in his wet military jacket had crinkled with the motion. It was the only sound that wasn't biological in nature that he'd heard in an hour or more. The man reached half-heartedly into his breast pocket to see what made the noise, not really sure why he was bothering.

Cigarettes. Two of them left still in a crumpled box that he'd carried around with him for months, just in case the blond one needed them. Just in case. He was a damned boy scout, wasn't he? Well, what the hell.

He raised one of the slim white sticks of tobacco to his lips and snapped his gloved fingers absently. A spark leapt gaily from his fingertips and happily set the thing burning. Well, at least something was happy doing its job right. The man inhaled, letting the nicotine settle in his lungs and swirl there until he felt a burning that wouldn't be ignored. He released it, coughing smoke from his lips and his nostrils, wincing at the burning in his sinuses. Why Havoc was so addicted to this he'd never know. He struggled to stop himself from following that train of thought. Of course he'd never know. Not now, and it was nobody's fault but his own. He'd gone and fucked it up, like he'd fucked everything up. He dragged on the nicotine again and again, a self infliction of hurt that he so very much deserved. After awhile he realized it wasn't hurting as badly. Not so bad, actually quite relaxing. He was starting to understand.

"Y'know those things are horrible for you." A familiar voice startled him to the point he opened his mouth in shock, dropping the stick in the snow where it sizzled out audibly. "Oh, and now you've gone and ruined it."

Mustang didn't turn around. It would only lead to hope, and he didn't want to have any room for hope. Instead he reached for the bottle of fifty-year old brandy he'd had hidden in his liquor cabinet for ages, but now sat between his feet. He swigged sacrilegiously from the neck. "What are you doing here?"

Havoc brushed the snow off the bench next to him before parking himself and answering, "Well, I was kind of hoping to come here for some time to think alone, but I now realize this is a pretty populated area. My apologies for interrupting… whatever it is… you were doing, although if I may be so blunt, it looked an awful lot like pouting."

"Was not pouting," he answered, before realizing that indeed, he sounded like he was pouting. He still didn't look at the man next to him, though the warm and familiar smell of smoke and a distinctive aftershave permeated the cold air and wafted at him, taunting. "I was thinking about how best to go about freezing to death, if you must know." Oh, that was way better. He almost kicked himself.

Havoc made a low, thoughtful grumbling noise in his throat. "Well, if I can make a suggestion, I would say that wearing woolen military dress with sheepskin lined boots, linen gloves, and a knit scarf is probably not the most effective way of doing so. Besides, it's a little over-dramatic, wouldn't you think? Oh wait," he answered his own question with a nod, drawing out a cigarette of his own and sticking it between his lips; "you're Roy Mustang, aren't you? There's nothing too over-dramatic for you."

Roy clicked his fingers once again and Jean's cigarette flared to life.

"See?"

Havoc drew on it, letting it light all the way before handing it to the other man. Roy stared at it a moment, resigned himself and took it. Jean lit another for himself. Handing the bottle over, the darker man encouraged the other to drink. "Did you just come down here to finish what you started? If you did, I pass and I'll go find somewhere a little more private to wallow."

Silence hung tangible in the freezing air between them. Even the snow seemed to sense they needed to talk and had ceased its unending flurrying.

"No." Jean's voice sounded husky and deep, enough to draw Roy's attention finally to the anguished face of the blond man hunched next to him. Roy sighed. Hopeless. Poor Jean was sitting here in a pile of snow wearing nothing but his uniform. He never did use a whole lot of foresight. Shivering, but visibly trying not to. Blond hair was mussed where he'd apparently run his fingers every which way through it and Roy imagined him at the bar drowning himself to some degree with the same personal torment that he was. At least Havoc had the intellect to do it indoors.

He looked back down at the snow. "You know," he began lamely, "I didn't mean…" He stopped, realizing that whatever was going to come out of his mouth wouldn't be enough, would never be enough to heal the hurt he'd caused the man that he loved. They'd fought like they often fought but this time he'd let loose one of the worst panoplies of insults he could ever remember using against anyone he'd known. There was no apology great enough to cover what he'd done to the man he loved above all else in this world and the next. Havoc had come back with some pretty good ones himself and they were both wounded deeply before Roy had given up and run away. Like always.

"Roy…" Jean reached over and tucked a chilled finger under his chin to pull his head up to face him, "I know."

The array of emotions that fought over one another in those impossible brown eyes would have brought Roy to his knees, had he not already been sitting. Love, pain, forgiveness, and yearning for what was… they were all reflections of what he was fighting within himself. "Jean, I'm so-" he choked on the words and was mercifully cut off by cool lips against his own. He tasted the salt of tears and was appalled to realize he couldn't tell who they belonged to. A few moments later his swollen lips were left alone, the sudden vacancy throwing his head into a spin cycle of too little and suddenly too much oxygen.

"I hate to cut this short, chief, but I'm freezing. Is there any way we could continue this conversation inside?" Jean glanced around, indicating the snow that had not only picked up again, but was apparently making up for lost time by adding a biting wind.

Roy blinked, forcing his brain to come back from that cloudy area that is lust. "Mmhmm. Let's go in there until it lets up a bit. Besides, I'm way too buzzed to attempt getting home." He motioned to the abandoned chapel across the courtyard. He took off his woolen coat and buttoned it around Jean's shoulders. Stubbing out what was left of his cigarette he reached for the bottle of amber liquid with one hand, accepting the assistance Havoc had extended to him to get up with the other. "Sorry, apparently I'm not buzzed, I'm drunk and my ass was frozen to this bench."

"I don't know why you didn't just heat up the damned thing and keep yourself warm."

He blinked. "I reiterate that I'm drunk. Didn't think of it. Besides, I was trying to freeze to death, remember?"

"Ah yes. Well great job of it you did, didn't you?" Havoc grinned lopsidedly.

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir."

They almost made it to the abandoned chapel without stopping to kiss but didn't quite. It took them much longer to get there than it should have in any reasonable situation. They arrived at the dilapidated building and scouted to find an opening that wasn't locked. There was a small entrance in the back that while jammed, was usable. Havoc jiggled the knob, pounded on the wood, and finally kicked the damned thing in before grabbing Roy by the starched collar of his dress shirt and pulling him in after him.

"In a hurry?"

"A little, yeah."

Roy's lips flamed to life once again when met with the icy chill of Jean's own. His tongue searched the other man's lips, demanding access, and once granted it fell into a familiar dance of heat and passion. They kissed deeply, forgetting to breathe, smoke and the warm aftertaste of brandy mixing with cold air and wet snow as the flakes covering them began to melt. It didn't matter that they were now standing in a puddle of freezing water, they were fire and heat enough to melt ice. A little snow no longer bothered them.

When Roy swayed, thick-headed and still very much feeling the effects of the alcohol, Havoc broke away from him, catching his shoulders and holding him upright until he regained his balance. Roy moaned at the loss of his life support, he didn't think he could function without Jean's lips on his own, but the very real possibility of falling over brought him around enough to sit down heavily on one of the nearby pews. He settled himself to admiring Jean's tall pale frame as he scrounged the area around the gigantic hearth for signs of firewood. Emitting a little noise of triumph signifying his success, he ducked behind a curtain and soon emerged with arms loaded with dry logs. "There's no kindling, though, sorry."

Roy snorted. "I don't need kindling, you know that." Havoc made a face and began stacking wood. There was barely enough light to see what he was doing, but he fared pretty well with just the grey reflection of the moon off the snow from the doorway. Another gust of wind blew in, banging the door against the wall, and both men were forced to shelter their faces in their arms until it passed.

"Ok, enough of this." He knelt on the ground, crawling over to the door and produced a piece of chalk from his pants pocket. Drawing a quick array he placed his hands over it and concentrated, forming the door back to its original heavy state and sealed it shut against the wall. He heard Havoc, plunged into sudden darkness, stumble and fall over something heavy. "Stand back, Jean." Barely giving him two seconds to do so, he snapped his fingers and shot a blast of lightning at the fireplace. In an instant the wood stacked in the enormous hearth exploded into life, throwing the interior of the chapel into sharp relief and revealing the landing spot of the tall blond where he'd dived for cover under an alter.

"I always knew you were handy to have around," Jean grinned, but his words faded as they gazed around themselves, noticing the rest of the chapel in the better light.

Heavy stone and dark cherry wood constructed the small area, exquisite paintings of the creation of the earth formed impossibly beautiful murals on the ceiling. Antique crystal chandeliers hung from wooden beams and large organ pipes adorned the entire rear wall. Dust hung thickly over the broken pews and formed dancing clouds in the firelight. The old smells of incense from services long since forgotten still permeated every surface. Roy snapped his fingers one last time, and intricate candelabras that stood against each wall in the small area lit easily, shadows dancing merrily.

"It's…" Jean stopped, mouth hanging open as if he was searching for the perfect word to describe the scene. Roy grinned, heart swelling with love for the man on the ground. His honey-blond hair was wet with melting snow, brown eyes sparkled in the candlelight. The roaring fire set interesting shadows to his frame and Roy thought maybe he'd never looked as amazing as he did right now.

"… beautiful," he finished for the other man.

Dragging along one of the heavy maroon curtains that had fallen off of a stained glass window to the ground near him, he stood up and moved over to where Jean was parked on the stone floor in front of the fireplace. He lay the curtain down, pulling the other man onto the thick velvet and began to unbutton the coat he'd placed over the lean shoulders. "You're soaked."

Jean blinked, staring at him. "You are, too."

"I know." Roy shrugged and began to slowly undress him, taking time to worship every bit of skin he exposed. Bit by bit, he'd relieved them both of their wet garments, tossing them in a dripping pile off to the side. He'd been wrong. Now Jean looked more amazing than he'd ever had before. He lay his lover back on the deep red velvet, kissing the places where shadows danced along his body and praying with his tongue to the places the firelight glowed red on his pale skin. Jean's skin smelled of the outdoors, of snow and of fresh air. In places the musk that was uniquely his, soap and smoke, clung to him and Roy soon lost himself in the glory that was this man writhing before him.

He kissed his way down Jean's chest, following the light trail of pale hair to the throbbing erection awaiting him below. Trailing his fingertips up the man's thighs, he stopped just short of his destination and lingered there. He raised his onyx eyes to behold the sight of this man, arching his back in the candle light and furrowing his brow in need. Fists clutched at the heavy material under him and he growled low in his chest.

"Please," he gasped, "Roy…"

It was the only encouragement he needed. Without hesitating, without his customary teasing, he took him whole and deep in his mouth, stroking his length with his tongue. Long elegant fingers tangled in his dark wet hair and pulled, the sharp pain only urging him on as he set his tongue around the sensitive areas he knew made the other man crazy. It was all too soon when he felt Jean buck into him, moaning deeply as spasms sent hot fluid to the back of his throat and he swallowed as the hands tugged his hair harder. Roy followed the demanding pull up to the lusty brown eyes and swollen lips that awaited him. Claiming those lips with his own, their tongues danced with need and he raised his own hands to run them through the blond hair, almost amber in the light. He sighed breathlessly; desire escaping his lips and Jean took matters into his control. He reached between them, stroking Roy's length with capable fingers while rolling him onto his back.

Seconds later Roy felt the press of the other man's cock, slick from his own lips, as he entered him. Filling him, they both groaned helplessly with the sensation. Jean leaned forward, capturing his mouth yet again and kissed him deeply, his tongue reflecting the motions of his hips as he buried himself deep inside. This time it was Roy who tangled fingers into wet hair, tugging gently as his need for Jean to be deeper, closer, harder… more… overcame him. Stopping himself from hurting the other man's scalp, Roy released hair and dragged nails down the pale skin of his back, leaving red stripes that mirrored the color of the velvet around them and generated a desperate gasp from his lover. He was rewarded with deeper thrusts, bellies tightening his own cock between them harder, and he came closer… so close to the edge. He was losing himself, and when he felt Jean plunge into that one spot, the one he couldn't resist, a primal groan escaped his throat and he came hard against them. Jean followed suit, burying himself deep and releasing into him, clutching the deep velvet under Roy and trembling above him.

Jean collapsed, exhaustion leaving him motionless and heavy with his head on Roy's chest, and Roy simply wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and stroking his hair. He peppered kisses over the other man's ear and breathed in the scent of this incredible being. Soon enough he felt Jean's breathing even out, the low deep sounds of heavy sleep. Smiling, he rolled him off his chest onto the thick fabric below them. In his sleep, the taller man curled himself around Roy's back, instinctively protective, wrapping his arms around him and holding him in that sleeping embrace. Roy reached around them carefully as not to disturb the exhausted man nuzzled into his neck and pulled the excess material over both of their bodies. The snow would let up by morning, for sure, and they could go home together. For now, though, they were snowbound and drained of all energy and would stay put for the night. With a wave of his hand he extinguished the burning candles and flared the crackling wood before them into a roaring fire to keep them warm. Watching the shadows dance and snuggling deeper into the warm body behind him, Roy drifted off into the deep sleep of a man content and madly in love.


End file.
